"If we seek security rather than the realization of our abilities, safety rather than growth, then we will be accentuating and developing our capacity for fear rather than courage, and security will, paradoxically, always remain slightly outside of our reach." -- Michael Lynberg

This cave is all ours...and it is only a short walk from our tree-houses.

Are you sure there isn't an elevator?

Ready to float down the river?

Let's go!

Two is better than one!

Practicing on the grass first.

Who is ready to get wet?

Cherie and the twins.

Kirsty!

Oh, the stress.

The twins.

Leighton and Diane.

There's Hannah!

Leighton and Cherie.

A Gibbon greets us back at the truck.

I think he wants to come home with us.

Our Thai guide.

The view near our treehouse.

Diane, Cherie and Hilda.

A great view to share with great friends.

What is it like to live in a tree-house?

Cherie and Hannah peek out of their mosquito net.

Ladies with their Thai beer.

Pillow fight!

Around the tree-house we found some things we weren't that excited about--like this scorpion.

The frogs are happy to share their jungle with us.

Anyone up for scorpion soup.

I wasn't so happy to see this spider right before bed.

Is that a baby scorpion or a giant spider?

Hannah's bikini spider.

Leighton and Hilda.

You meet the craziest people when you travel.

cherie writes: Here’s the key to living in a tree: you have to pack light. The Ciao Tribe stayed in tree-houses in Thailand, which were remarkably similar to the tree-houses of my youth; the kind that little kids love to share secrets in.

“Is that a spider or a scorpion?” I asked Hannah pointing to the creepy thing near our bed. Hannah and I were staying in Tree-house #2. “It’s either a big spider or a small scorpion,” said Hannah. So that I could sleep, I took a photo of the bug and climbed down our tree-house to find a local to ask.

When I finally found a Thai, he quickly put my worried mind to rest. “It’s a jumping spider,” he said. “That’s why you have a net around your bed, to protect you.”
Later, I took my first tree-house shower. Everyone in the village knows when you are taking a shower because the water trickles down the tree trunk like an off-season waterfall.

In the middle of my shower Hannah started screaming a word that you never want to hear when you are naked: “Tarantula.” I burst out of the shower and stood on a bamboo chair while Hannah stood pointing to a black lump of fuzz in the corner.

“Hannah,” I said trying to soothe her. “Don’t freak out. Spiders move slowly.”
“This one looks like it could run a marathon,” Hannah shouted.
“Just watch the spider, while I get a flash-light. I don’t want to leap out of this tree-house buck naked.”

I found the flashlight and shone it on the offending insect. It was just Hannah’s black string bikini, scrunched up in the corner. To her credit, the bikini (with its knotted strings) looked remarkably like a tarantula. It was a bikini spider.

Hannah and I didn’t get much sleep in our tree-house hut that night—especially seeing all the scorpions, spiders, snakes and frogs that were frolicking about our tree. In the night, I heard someone yell: “Ciao” right before we went to sleep. I wondered: “Was it Leighton, or was a Gibbon?”